Popol Vuh Redux
by FossilQueen1984
Summary: Re-do of my Popol Vuh story. Professor Tarragon has gone missing, so it's up to Helene and Tintin to find out what's going on. Comics verse, some male slash. Tintin/Helene, Chang/Skut


The Crypt of Popol Vuh Redux

Written by: FossilQueen1984

Disclaimer: Hello there, my fellow Tintin aficionados. I know I haven't updated in nearly a year, but things are coming. This is a rewrite of my Popol Vuh story, so that means NO TORCHWOOD. However, this story will have a certain amount of male slash, just so you know. Again, I only own Helene and the kids. All other characters belong to their respectful owners.

Suggested Soundtrack: Hedwig's Theme- John Williams, Cursum Perficio- Enya

Chapter 1: Ships in the Night

It was midnight at the hallowed grounds at Oxford. A bone moon radiated dimly behind a veil of fog against a blanket of crushed obsidian velvet peppered with innumerable diamonds. Every so often, a deer or fox would wander out of the nearby forest and onto the campus lawn, bewildered by the Narnian-esque buildings. There were no lights on; everyone was either asleep or cramming for the next day's exams. As the bells rolled into the silence, a bobby would waddle around in a stupor looking for a break from the tedium.

Passing by the ivy-covered dormitory for foreign science majors, a lone figure peeked cautiously from a wooden side door. Letting out a sigh of relief, he closed the door but it jammed on his hastily secured trousers. Whispering a silent curse in Mandarin, the youth forcefully closed the door and slunk along the covered corridor back to his dormitory.

A cool breeze caresses his sweaty, sticky face and he shivered and blushed recalling where he had been for the few hours. If anybody found out, it would be the end of everything. Not only his life, but his career, his friendships and any chance of having a "normal" life. Closing the door behind him, he collapsed onto his unkempt bed and picked up a photo.

The picture showed a handsome youth of 18 or about with a quaff of ginger hair holding a beautiful girl his age with dark hair and an eye patch. They were getting married, and the youth knew it. He had been one of the groomsmen. After all, Tintin was his brother and Helene was a dear friend, so he was ecstatic for them. After all, Tintin and Helene deserved each other. So where did that leave him, Chang, best friend to the groom?

Letting the photograph fall to the floor, Chang let out a deep groan of despair. Ever since he and Tintin had met as 12 year olds, the Asian had felt something stir inside him. Chang had fallen in love with the Belgian and had even tried to kiss him. Tintin had been disgusted and insisted that he did not feel the same way. In fact, he said he was going to marry a girl who lived in a parallel universe. In the end, Tintin found Helene and they were living the life Chang had wanted with Tintin. Why was life so unfair?

Deep down, Chang already knew the answer why he and Tintin were not meant to be. First of all, Tintin only loved him as a brother, nothing more. Secondly, homosexuality was considered taboo in Chinese culture and was illegal just about everywhere. Third, Chang had come to terms with his long standing crush on his adopted brother.

Even from this well-adjusted stand point, Chang still felt adrift about his identity and sexuality. It seemed you could either be a "queer" or "in the closet", and not yourself. Actually, Chang had not yet decided if he was just into men, both men and women, or what. Already, Oxford deans were lecturing about the evils of sodomy and deviant sexual behavior. It was an open front for accusations and hysteria, so said the campus newspaper.

Behind closed doors however, that was a different story. There were quite a few professors and teaching assistants who had regular affairs with male students and other staffers. These were never serious, just for letting of stress and sexual frustration. In fact, he had just come from a standing appointment with one of the Literature dons from Budapest. That's all they were to each other, ships in the night. For Chang, this was a happy medium.

As he lay on the bed reminiscing, Chang felt his pants tighten. Groaning, he freed himself of his clothing and shamelessly flouted his form as he gyrated to the passing rail cars. As he reached his peak, a familiar comrade entered and lowered his mouth to Chang's hips. Ships in the night, indeed.


End file.
